


Twas the Night Before Trouble - Chapter V

by selyndae



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:29:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28077012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/selyndae/pseuds/selyndae
Summary: Chapter 5 of the Christmas Round Robin 2020 over on Section7mfu.livejournal.com
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7
Collections: The Trouble in Times Square Affair





	Twas the Night Before Trouble - Chapter V

**Chapter 5**

Struggling in the cold, they were now completely surrounded by trees. Even here the snow was relentless. The trees gave little respite from the bulk of the wet, heavy snow and the howling wind, still painfully sharp, cutting through their clothing and loud enough to make hearing difficult.  


The long slogging, struggling to stay upright, narrowed Napoleon’s world to putting one foot in front of the other. For now, anyway, the gunfire had stopped. _We must be moving enough._  


Even as the trees offered some small protections from the harsh elements, they also shut out the faint winter light, making it look and feel more like midnight, than late afternoon. The snow on the ground reflected just barely enough to see.  


As they moved deeper into the woods, he idly noticed it wasn’t an old one with thick, well-established trees, but rather a younger one with spindly trees crowded together in clumps, intertwined with dead tangled vines and brambles, which caught and scratched at their arms and legs.  


“Oomph!”  


A hidden root caught Napoleon’s foot. He flailed, trying to keep his balance, but the numbing cold and injuries made that impossible. The fall brought both agents down, landing hard.  


They lay in a heap, unable to move, breathing heavily trying to catch their breath for a long, agonizing moment. Finally, Napoleon cautiously moved his leg to see if he’d injured it. Satisfied that nothing (aside from his dignity and ruined suit) was damaged, he sat up at touched Illya’s arm.  


“You okay?”  


“I’m fine.”  


“Well then, we have to go.”  


“Why?”  


“I don’t need to be shot, so let’s go.” Napoleon sat up.  


Illya sighed and started to move, then stopped abruptly. Frowning, he looked around. “They aren’t shooting.”  


“Huh?” Sitting up straighter, he looked around, listening intently. “You’re right. But…this _can’t_ be where they want us. There’s nothing here.”  


Illya had been looking and listening as well. “It does seem to be lacking.”  


Napoleon finally got to his feet. Reaching down, he offered his partner a hand up.  


Even standing, peering through the dark still revealed only trees and snow. “What now?”  


_“Listen,”_ hissed Illya.  


Puzzled, Napoleon listened for a moment, but all he could hear was the faint, irregular rustle of leaves as the heavy snow dropped through the trees. He shrugged before leaning over to whisper back, “Nothing. You?”  


Illya shook his head slowly. “No.”  


“Maybe they gave up…” He made a face at Illya’s eye roll. “Right. But…freezing to death is so anticlimactic. I really expected more, didn’t you?”  


“Yes, it does seem to be rather prosaic...” He paused and spat.  


It was really too dark to see clearly, but Napoleon was afraid it was more blood.  


Illya’s breath hitched a little as he tried to straighten up. He didn’t need to see his partner to know he was worried about him. He managed a tiny grin; Napoleon couldn’t see it, but he would hear it. “A deplorable extravagance of resources. If all they were going to do was have us perish from hypothermia, they could have tied us up and left us out in the open.”  


Napoleon clutched his coat a little tighter. “This _could_ be just what it looks like—a quiet…end.”  


“If that’s the case, I categorically refuse.”  


“I’m with you there, partner.” He stiffened as if suddenly aware of something odd. He stared hard at the woods.  


“What?” Illya’s whisper was very quiet.  


Napoleon’s answer was slow and even. “Doesn’t it seem much darker? As in, _suddenly_ much darker?”  


“Yes. Yes, it does.” Illya carefully turned around before stopping at a point to their left. “This way.”  


Napoleon blinked in the darkness, trying to see what made it different. Nothing. Nevertheless, he moved closer and wrapping his left arm around his partner. It was the only way they could travel now.

“It’s getting too difficult to see them,” pouted Marjorie.  


Her husband frowned. “There really should be some sort of lighting for—”  


The picture went completely dark, leaving behind random patterns of static!  


This is not what we paid for.” Reluctantly standing, he walked over to the telephone and glanced at the small desk. “Where did you put that number, dear?”  


“Oh…” Randall turned to look at his wife. “I…think I left it at store.” At her husband’s glare, she added tartly, “In the safe! I’m quite sure of that, now.”  


Randall sighed. “Then, we’ll just have to wait and see.”  


His wife shifted restlessly in her seat, uneasy at the turn in the evening’s ‘entertainment.’  


_BRRRING._  


The Claibornes froze, startled at the sound of the phone.  


They looked at each other for a moment before Randall picked up the receiver. “Hello?”  


_“The storm has caused a small delay.”_  


“I see. With whom am I speaking?”  


_“Uh, Joe? Yeah, Joe.”_  


“Very well…Joe. So we will be able to continue our, er, viewing soon?”  


_“Yeah, soon. Sh— uh, my boss says they’ll have a generator here if the power isn’t back on in the next hour.”_  


“Very well. I,” He glanced at his wife. “ _We_ shall look forward to seeing it.” The phone clicked leaving a dial tone. Staring at the phone a moment, Randall finally hung it up before going over to the bar and selecting another bottle of wine which he opened dexterously.  


“Was that from… Shiv?” Marjorie’s voice trembled slightly (although whether from fear of their hired gun or from her husband’s well-hidden temper was uncertain).  


“An associate, I think. There has been some sort of power outage due to the storm, but I’ve been assured power will be restored soon.”  


“Hmm, so they have a storm to deal with as well… That sounds very nice…lovely.” Her smile was not a nice one at all.  


Judging the wine had breathed enough, Randall brought it over to pour another glass for himself and his wife.

The trees were definitely smaller and less dense in this direction. They hadn’t been trudging for too long when the ground suddenly sloped downward. The abrupt change caused Illya to slip and if Napoleon hadn’t been there, would have fallen. Panting from the pain, they stood still, trying to catch their breath.  


Below them was an ice-covered brook. It was hard to see through the snow, but Napoleon had a sinking feeling that the ice was thin. Getting wet—no, getting _wetter_ was a really bad idea!  


“Na-napoleon, do you…see it?”  


Worried anew at his partner’s weakened voice, he struggled to keep his voice from showing it. “Where?”  


“The…sky.”  


Napoleon looked up at the sky. Heavy clouds were barely visible through heavy snow. At first, that was all he could see through the sparse trees. Then he saw it!  


_Faint flashes of red lights— **regular** flashes!_  


But, before they could react, they heard the distinctive sound of a gun magazine being slammed into place!


End file.
